


It’s Familiar (But Not Too Familiar)

by Darkest_Sun



Series: Romance in Every Measure (Blupjeans ficlets) [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Barry is extremely in love with Lup (and so am I), F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Getting Together, Inspired by Music, Legato Conservatory, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, some absolute unabashed fluff here y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkest_Sun/pseuds/Darkest_Sun
Summary: They spent a year pouring their hearts and souls into a piece of music, creating an audible manifestation of their love for each other.Barry Has Some Feelings during this time.





	It’s Familiar (But Not Too Familiar)

**Author's Note:**

> Just as I didn't intend to write the first ficlet in this series, I also didn't intent to continue it.
> 
> 'Dance Me To The End of Love' by Leonard Cohen gave me such strong Blupjeans feels that I sat down and either wrote a ficlet, or and idea for a ficlet, for every single verse. I'll get to them eventually, between my other fics.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I'd love to know what you think.

“Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in

Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove

Dance me to the end of love”

 

 

Making music with Lup felt… familiar.

 

To be fair, many things with Lup felt familiar - forty-seven years was a long time to know someone.

 

But making music with her reminded him of being in the Starblaster lab, working together, sometimes separately, but always eventually coming together, like a dance.

 

Sometimes there was a manic energy to their dance of discovery; fueled by too many late nights, too wired to sleep, too excited by the newest revelation.

 

(She was always a revelation to him)

 

Other times, it was a seamless and well-practiced movement; them orbiting around each other, bouncing ideas off one another, two halves of a perfect unit.

 

Their music felt like that.

 

They would share notes, ideas, snatches of melody, and the other would understand instantly, building and growing from those small ideas.

 

 

Some nights were filled right up until sunrise with ideas and sections played over and over until that euphoric moment when it felt _right._

 

(She always felt euphoric. She always felt _right_.)

 

When he played, he felt like he was a part of the music as much as it was a part of him.

 

And when he was part of it, he was truly half of a whole, made complete and somehow  _more_ than he could ever be on his own by her notes as they swirled gently around his.

 

Their melodies tangled around each other the way he wished their hands could.

 

But they could play neither piano nor violin one-handed.

 

(He would try, for her)

 

When they finished practising, the music followed them out into the cool night.

 

Playing gently in his head, whispering around his hands.

 

(He couldn’t tell if they ached more to keep playing or to finally hold her)

 

(He was lying, he could tell)

 

Sometimes he played a wrong note, but it never felt like a wrong note when it was followed by the tune of Lup’s cackling laugh.

 

The first time a string broke, she had looked at her violin as if surprised and offended by its audacity to interrupt their music.

 

He had laughed so hard his head hit the keys and mashed a terrible chord, making them both laugh even more.

 

Never did these things feel like mistakes, or errors. Only part of this familiar process of dance and discovery, trial and error, back and forth.

 

And when,

 

Finally,

 

They shared their music with the audience,

 

(With each other)

 

It felt:

 

Euphoric,

 

Electric,

 

Inevitable.

 

Like making a discovery that he had known for a long, long time.

 

And it felt familiar.


End file.
